


In A Ruby Red Cage

by Black_Thorn



Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Grimm arm amputation, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rating May Change, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:28:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23377657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Black_Thorn/pseuds/Black_Thorn
Summary: When Cinder Fall and Winter Schnee find themselves stuck in a deserted Atlas, they’ll have to be able to become trustworthy allies, or kill each other before the grimm have a chance to.
Relationships: Cinder Fall/Winter Schnee
Comments: 50
Kudos: 94





	1. Alone with the enemy

It all happens incredibly fast. Winter crashes into the room and she finds it frozen, ice clinging to the ceiling and the floor, still growing as if it were a sentient being.  
She sees Penny there, cradling Fria in her arms, and she knows time has almost run out. Suddenly she locks eyes with a single golden one, and it mirrors her fears perfectly.  
She cannot lose her destiny like this, not when she has put so much work, so much effort into reaching it. Her and Fall both lunge at the same time, they don’t even scream as they reach for the dying woman.

Fria turns her head, sapphire eyes ablaze once again, and she sees the two women, notices how their hearts beat in unison for all the wrong reasons.

There is a blinding light, and Winter passes out. 

She wakes up with her ears ringing, and she coughs a few times before she can lift herself off the floor. When the room finally stops spinning, and she is able to lift herself off the ground, she can notice three things:  
One, she is still in the maiden room, in the exact same spot as before.  
Two, the ice is not there anymore. It has not simply melted, but there is no water, no sign of it even existing in the first place. It seems to have just disappeared.  
Three, there is only one other person in the room, and that person is Cinder Fall.

The woman is unconscious, curled up on the floor like a stray cat. There is no sign of either Fria or Penny. And everything is so damn quiet, if not for the ringing in her ears. Winter sits up, not without a significant effort. Her body is aching all over, and her head feels like it’s ready to burst. With one finger, she presses on the communicator in her ear.

“Specialist Schnee reporting, I need immediate back up.”

She waits for the familiar buzz of a microphone on the other side, but she is met with no sound at all. She taps the device another couple of times with growing urgence.

“Do you receive me? This is Specialist Winter Schnee.”

A few more minutes go by, and there is still no answer. Suddenly she can hear a soft groan coming from a couple of feets away, and she sees the other woman is slowly stirring. If the Fall Maiden awakens, and she has to take her one on one, Winter doubts she has a possibility to make it out alive. So she does the most logical thing she can think of.  
Her boot connects with the woman’s face hard enough to make her head snap to face the other wall, and orange aura flickers. Winter calculates she will be passed out for a few more hours at least.

She looks down the corridor and, sure enough, the robots the maiden had destroyed in her violent path were still there, electricity sparking from metal wires. Winter sighs, knowing she couldn’t leave the woman alone.  
She huffs as she heaves her on her shoulders, exhaustion making her legs tremble. She starts walking. 

Once again, she notices how eerie all that silence is. There is no sound of guns blasting or grimm roaring. There is nothing. She walks down her path, and meets no enemy or ally, she keeps walking until she is out of the containing facility, and still nothing. It’s as if- just like Fria’s ice- everyone had simply vapourized, leaving no trace at all. 

She has to go back to the school and find her scroll, and try to get in contact with the general.

She goes on, and no one is running for their life, no student shoves past her. The alarm sirens, however, are still blasting.  
Maybe everyone has evacuated?  
It’s the most likely option, she thinks, but why would they have left them there? And what had happened with Penny, or with the winter maiden?

The more Winter thinks about it, the less answers she can find. The only other living being, at the moment, seems to be the woman she is carrying on her shoulders. A criminal, she reminds herself. An incredibly powerful criminal that could incinerate her on the spot.  
Her life is quickly spiraling from harsh to impossible. 

She finally comes at the entrance of Atlas Academy, and the place is so vast and empty it sends a shiver down her spine. It’s unnatural, a scenario that should only exist in nightmares.  
She finally reaches her own quarters, and throws Cinder Fall on a couch with little regards for how she lands. Quickly enough, she is looking inside one of her drawers, to finally pick up her scroll.

She calls Ironwood’s contact, and soon the device is ringing. She nervously taps her foot on the ground as she awaits, eyebrows furrowing.  
“Come on…”  
With a final beep, the line goes quiet.

Winter finally breaks out in a cold sweat. Is everyone gone? Is it possible they have just… left?  
Winter knows she is not indispensable, not without the powers of the winter maiden, but to leave her there with Cinder Fall alive?  
It doesn’t make any sense.  
She decides to type out a message.  
“I’m alive, currently at the Academy with Fall still unconscious. Send coordinates.” 

She bites her thumb, before she makes one last attempt at a call. Even her sister, however, doesn’t respond, and soon the beeping sound of the scroll dies out. 

“Fuck.”

She sits on the bed, fingers coming to pinch her nose. They have to be somewhere. People don’t just disappear. Maybe she should take an airship and search in Mantle.  
As she tries to rationalize her thinking process, all fatigue falls on her shoulders, and she sighs, frustrated tears rising to the corner of her eyes. She has no idea what to do. Her aura has been completely drained after fighting for her life. And Cinder fucking Fall, the one that broke it in the first place, is snoring on her couch.  
If she eventually does find her boss, she will demand a raise, and possibly a vacation.

She looks at the slumbering woman, seemingly innocent in her sleep, soft breath coming out of her mouth and dark eyelash fluttering. Should she kill her? Would she even get the powers?  
Somehow, the perspective of eliminating an unconscious enemy, an enemy that happens to be the only other person still present, does not appeal to her all that much. 

Instead she stays seated on her bed, waiting for Cinder Fall to wake up, and even if it is unlikely, see if she holds any answer.

She doesn’t realize when she falls asleep, but when she blinks her eyes open once again, she can feel scorching heat close to her throat. Surely enough, Cinder Fall is glaring at her menacingly, obsidian sword unsheathed. 

Fuck. 

“Last thing I remember is me reaching for the Maiden, and I wake up into the room of some Atlas elite,”

There is a peculiar way with which she says the word “elite”, as if it is pure poison she wants to spit out.

“Explain.”

Winter swallows, feeling how hot the blade close to her skin is. She remembers how easily the woman in front of her could summon explosive fireballs, unleashing heat that could melt away metal and bones.

She has never been so scared of another human being.  
The clawed hand at the woman’s side, however, suggests she is not that much of a human after all.

“I woke up, and it was just the two of us. I took you here, and I still have to encounter anyone else. It seems like everyone is just… gone.” She explains, careful not to cut her skin against the hot blade.

Cinder considers her words silently, and if she is feeling shock from Winter’s words she does not show it. Her single golden eye stops glowing, and the heat at her throat dims down, even if the sword stays in place.

“It sounds unlikely, but I don’t see why you would lie to me on something like this.” 

Winter shakes her head slowly. “I was hoping you knew what had happened.” She says. Cinder stares at her, and she does her best to hold her gaze. 

“I know just as much as you do.” She declares finally, and Winter’s shoulders sag. She had thought his would be the most likely answer, but she still had hoped for some kind of information.

Finally the dark sword vanishes into ashes in front of her eyes, and Cinder turns on her heel to exit the room. Winter blinks a couple of times before following.

“Where, exactly, do you think you are going?”

They walk down the deserted halls, Cinder’s cloak dancing behind her.  
“What do you care?” She asks without even turning. 

“We are the only two people left for all we know, and even if I don’t like it just as much as you, we have to stick together.”

Cinder suddenly turns her way, and Winter has to stop herself from flinching.  
“I don’t have to do anything.” She barks, fury igniting even hotter than before “I'm not some kind of puppet.”

The corner of Winter’s lips turns downwards at the implication in her words.

“Aren’t you, now?”

She regrets it almost immediately, feeling like a child toying with dry matches. She clears her throat before Cinder can snap back.

“You don’t know Atlas or Mantle as much as I do.” she continues, trying for a more diplomatic approach “you’ll get lost before you can learn anything. Plus, I have access to all the cameras and robots in the city. I’m your quickest way at information.”

Cinder cocks her head to the side in an almost bird-like manner, before a dangerous smile curves her lips. The sudden change - from angry to mildly intrigued- is staggering to say the least.  
“Alright then,” she says, taking hold of her black cape and bowing mockingly. “After you.”

Winter clenches her fists, frustration rising. If she is stuck with her as a sole companion, she prays to the gods it will be for a short period of time. Still, as long as she proves to be useful, Cinder may not want to kill her, and so she gets herself busy.

When they reach a control room, her greatest fears become reality, and she feels a strange twist deep into her stomach. The streets are completely deserted, both Atlas and Mantle seem ghost towns. Then, a gryphon lands in front of a drone, and Winter groans. 

“Of course the grimms are still here.”

For once, Cinder seems to agree with her.  
“You cannot get rid of those things.”

There is a wishful tone to her voice, and with the corner of her eye, Winter sees the woman clutch her right arm through the cape. The grimm arm. Winter shivers at the reminder of how that monstrous thing had felt clenching around her throat.

“What do we do now?”  
She asks, forcing herself to snap back into the present. 

“Normally I would suggest taking an airship, and fly away from Atlas,” Cinder answers, before her gaze is drawn to a window, “however…”

Winter follows her, and she notices something that somehow she had not before. The sky, above and all around them, is coated red, blood colored clouds and lightning seem to surround both Atlas and Mantle like a cocoon.  
It’s a beautiful and at the same time terrifying view.

“We are trapped here,” Winter comments bitterly, eyes still fixed on the flashing lights that tear into ruby clouds. 

“So it would seem.”

“And somehow, the creatures of grimm are still with us.”

“Apparently.”

It feels like talking to an android, receiving only one worded answers.  
“You seem incredibly calm right now,” Winter snaps at her uncaring tone, and her outlash brings a smile to Cinder’s lips.  
Suddenly she’s reminded of how dangerous the woman next to her actually is, and not only because of her powers. She’s the one that indirectly caused the death of so many students at Beacon, the one that let loose an arrow into Pyrrha Nikos’ chest.

“Panicking won’t help us.” She answers “I think we should find a place to stay where we can easily find resources and protection.”  
At least she considers us a team, now. Winter thinks bitterly. Somehow she knows that, should Cinder find her useless, she would probably get rid of her instantly.

Her mind quickly lists a few possible locations. The Academy is way too big, and Grimm could crawl inside without them even noticing. The main defenses had always been the students and teachers, after all.  
There is another option, one that isn’t all that appealing. 

“We could head to Schnee manor.”  
She says. “There is food reserves, and I know how to activate the defense mechanisms.”

“You don’t seem too happy about it.”

“I am not.” Winter sneers, “But it’s probably our best solution, for now.”  
Cinder shrugs.  
“Lead the way.”

Obviously, the way back isn’t easy. They soon cross path with a sabyr, it’s sniffing the ground and moving broken drones with its nuzzle. How it had been able to reach Atlas’ grounds, with its inability to fly, is a mystery just as much as everything else. Winter slowly reaches for her weapon, before Cinder steps in front of her. 

“What are you doing?”  
Winter whispers heatedly as the woman walks in the middle of the road, making the grimm turn her way and growl. Cinder lifts her arm, the same way she had done against Winter hours before. However, the fireball she was expecting to see does not ignite, and the monster keeps running their way. 

Cinder’s eye widens, and her expression is no longer a smug one, but it’s frozen in shock. Not even a spark comes out of her palm.  
Winter moves lightning fast, her saber going through the lunging grimm’s mouth, impaling it in place, and it turns into black ashes. 

“What was that?” Winter asks, but Cinder is looking at her hand. Gone is the facade of control and wit, there is only plain horror drawn on her face. “It’s not… I don’t feel it anymore.”

It’s barely a quivering whisper. She’s scared. The last thing they need in a kingdom crawling with grimm is fear.  
“We have to go,” Winter tells her, “now.”  
But Cinder is still stuck in her trance, and they are running out of time. She hears a howl in the distance. 

With the last drops of aura she had managed to recover in her short rest, Winter summons a manticore. She gets on its back, and looks at the woman clad in black standing frozen beneath her.  
“I’m going,” she declares “you either come with me now, or die here.”

Finally, survival instincts kicking in, Cinder looks back at her. The Specialist offers her hand, and the woman takes it, getting on the back of the translucent summon. She is still pure heat when she feels her cling to her waist.

Getting inside the manor without servants coming to greet her is strange on its own. She quickly closes the doors behind her, walking down alabaster halls purposefully. She moves the head of a statue and she finds it, a starking red button she had known of since she was a child. Winter presses it, and soon windows and doors are being barricaded by steel fences.

“This should do,” she says, but when she turns around she sees Cinder is still standing in front of the main door, staring at her human hand.

“I don’t understand,” she says “it’s not- I can’t use them- they…”

Her breath quickens, and Winter is sure she’s having a panic attack. She hears something big slam against the main door, probably a grimm that has smelled Cinder’s distress. 

“You lost your powers?” Winter asks, still staying far from her, as if she was a ticking bomb ready to explode. She might as well be.  
Cinder, however, doesn’t seem to have heard her, still staring at her palm, brows furrowed in concentration. Then she screams, falling on her knees, clutching her grimm arm.

There is another booming sound outside, and Winter finally approaches her. 

“You are attracting grimm,” she says as she slowly gets closer. Cinder still doesn’t seem to hear, caged into her own pain. She’s grimacing, hand holding her inhuman black arm, sweat making her forehead shine.

“Make it stop,” she is able to gasp out as she curves herself forward, forehead grazing white marble.  
The arm is smoking now, black mist coming out of it like a dark cloud. Winter sees how the human skin beneath it is harshly red. It looks like an infection, and it’s spreading.

“I can cut it off,” she proposes, hand coming to the hilt of her saber. “Before it’s too late.”  
Cinder doesn’t talk for a while, crouched downwards. A few minutes go by like that, as if time itself had stilled, waiting for an answer.  
Then she nods, and it’s all Winter needs.

“I’ll be back.”

It doesn’t take much to find what she is looking for: bandages, sanitizer, and pain killers.  
She brings the pills to the woman’s mouth, forcing it closed before she can spit them out.

“I need you to lie down,” Winter says with practiced authority “and to spread your arm.”

Cinder has stopped screaming, even if her breath is still laboured. She does as Winter told her, head facing the other way, left cheek pressed against the cold ground. She closes her eye as Winter uses a straw to tie her arm tightly, leaving out the blackened skin.

Winter inhales slowly as she gets back up, heart beating fast and loud in her chest. She has done it before, when a beowulf had damaged a soldier’s leg to a point of no return on a mission. Still, nervousness runs through her veins along with the adrenaline.  
She doesn’t tell her when her blade is about to descend, careful to cut out all of the grimm parts. Cinder doesn’t even scream when it happens, she just squeezes her eyes tighter.  
The black thing thrashes on the ground as if it were alive, not unlike a lizard’s tail when it has been cut off. Then, much like any other grimm, it quickly dissolves into thin air.

The rest is the easier part. Winter makes sure she doesn’t bleed out, cleaning the wound so it doesn’t infect. When she has done applying bandages, she wipes her forehead with the back of her hand. Cinder has passed out once again next to her, chest raising in a natural pace.

Even if she knows the woman is a horrible one, she still feels sorrow nag at the corner of her heart. No one, Cinder Fall as well, would have deserved to die that way, devoured by her own body. And the loss of a limb isn’t an easy thing to live through.  
She grabs a pillow and a white sheet, too tired to pick the woman up once again, and lets her rest on the ground.

When she has put the pillow under her head and covered her, she lies on a nearby couch and falls in a dreamless sleep, uncaring of the creatures snarling behind closed doors.


	2. Forgotten by the gods

She awakens the next morning, and Cinder is not there, only sheet and pillow have been left behind. 

Winter gets up swiftly, marching down the corridors for any sign of the woman.   
She doesn’t know why she wants to find her so badly- maybe being alone scares her more than she had thought. Or maybe, she is nervous at the thought of having a criminal mastermind loose somewhere in the manor.

The place is still empty, with no waitresses or butlers cleaning the already spotless floors. The paintings hanging on the walls, of Jaques, Willow, Weiss and Whitley, judge her silently, every single one of them, in their own way.   
She walks past her father’s study, and her steps quicken.

She finds her in the dining room, where her father usually held his fancy dinners, facing a huge mirror attached to the wall.   
Winter coughs in her fist, making her presence known.

“What do you want?” Cinder asks harshly, hand coming to the other shoulder, as if to cover what is not there anymore.   
Her eye, the one not hidden by the black bandage, is red and shiny.  
Suddenly Winter feels bad for intruding. 

“I just… wanted to see if your bandages needed to be changed.”

Cinder looks to the side and doesn’t answer, locks of black hair covering her face in shadows. There is nothing left of that woman that had burst through the door, one day before, fire dancing on her fingers and confident smile in place. This seems to be but an empty shell, and where Winter should feel relief, she can only taste bitterness.

She has already turned on her heel when Cinder calls for her.

“Schnee.” 

She looks back, hand on the door handle, waiting. 

“Why did you do it?” She asks “you know I wouldn’t have done the same for you.”

Winter’s back stiffens, gaze falling on painted wood.   
“Just try to rest,” she says, avoiding to give an answer she doesn't yet quite know herself “we have to start looking for a way out, soon.”

She closes the door softly behind her, and receives no reply.

In a way, Cinder reminds her of her mother in the times she still lived there. The woman is like a ghost, who lets her presence known thanks to missing food or glasses, and barely anything else.   
They never cross paths.

Until, after a couple of days that Winter has spent mostly trying to get in contact with anyone and polishing her weapon, Cinder walks in the room where she is sitting, bottle of whiskey in hand.   
She doesn’t stop when she sees her, sitting on the couch in front of her, as if she was seeking her out.

“I see you have found my mother’s stock.”

It’s the first thing Winter says after days of silence, and it makes Cinder raise an eyebrow and take a swig from the bottle. Winter knows how strong the liquor is, and yet she drinks it like fresh water.

“I’m sure she won’t mind.” She says. 

She smells of expensive perfume and shampoo, and Winter wonders if she has just taken a bath. It’s a good sign, she thinks. 

“So, here is the plan.” Cinder says, prompting Winter to blink a couple of times. Before she can inquire, however, Cinder is already talking.  
“I know for a fact the relic is still here, in Atlas, most likely in that academy of yours. The farm boy had it. And if there is some way we are going to know what is going on, or how to get out of it, it’s going to be through the relic of knowledge. So we find me a weapon, and you fly us there.”

Apparently, Cinder hadn’t spent all of her time skulking around being depressed, as she had thought. She offers Winter the bottle with a sheepish grin, almost childlike.   
“But I’m going to need your help for this.”

“How do you know where the lamp is?”  
Winter asks, not even looking at the offered alcohol, eyes hard as diamond. Cinder’s smile transforms into a smug grin.   
“Now, do you really think me so short sighted? While I was taking the maiden, an… associate of mine was seizing the relic.”

“That’s- how did you even-“

“That general of yours isn’t nearly as smart as you- or him, for the matter- think he is.”

Winter springs up, fists clenched to her sides, blue eyes sparking with fury.   
“General Ironwood is a better man than you will ever be.”

Cinder’s lips purse into a thin line as she gazes up at her, looking none too pleased. “I may not be a good person, Schnee.” She says through gritted teeth “but don’t fool yourself into believing he is, either.”

“If you really think you are so much more intelligent than all of us,” Winter seethes, and her voice trembles with rage, something she has noticed happening way too often lately, “then go find the relic yourself.”

She storms off the room with heavy steps, closing the door behind her with a slam. She hears a beowulf howl outside, and it makes her want to scream as well. 

Cinder tries to approach her again the next day, in the kitchen.  
Winter is cleaning a bowl she had just used for eating breakfast, the mechanical movement of brushing with a sponge helping her to calm her mind.

When she enters, Winter notices how her black cape hides her missing limb. Unlike Winter she has not changed her clothes, even if they do look clean. All that black and gold creates a strong contrast against the white and silver of the Manor. She stands out like a drop of ink on an otherwise empty paper.

“Had a good night?” She asks with a saccharine voice, one that does not fool Winter for a second. She snorts as she settles the bowl down on a counter.

“Just say what you want.”

“Well that’s just rude.”  
Cinder replies flatly, looking at her nails. They are painted of a dark red shade, polish slightly chipped.  
“I want you to come with me to retrieve the relic, since it’s in both of our best interests.” She finally says when she’s done inspecting her fingers with a critical look. 

“Have your powers returned?”

The immediate grimace on Cinder’s face is enough of an answer. 

“Didn’t you use them to create your blade, days ago?”

“I thought I did,” Cinder replies “but thinking back about it, it might have just been my semblance.”

“Then you can do it again.”

“Yes,” she says, now seeming annoyed at Winter’s constant probing “but it costs me Aura and energy, so I would prefer an already forged weapon.”

“Would you even be able to fight? With your, ah… situation?” Winter trails off, unsure of how to address it, while Cinder just gives her an unimpressed look. 

“Just give me something not too heavy and I’ll be fine.”

It takes Winter some time, but she finally finds what she was looking for in her old bedroom. The dagger has a thin blade, it’s fickle enough not to damage Cinder’s balance further. She gives it to her, and after trying to hold it, the woman seems to be satisfied enough. 

The irony of willingly giving Cinder Fall a weapon that could kill her, even if not that easily, does not escape Winter’s notice.

“We’ll go by airship,” she says “I want to arrive with my aura full, we don’t know how many grimm might have intruded inside the academy.”

“The noise could draw them to us.” Cinder observes. 

Winter knows this, but the possibility of not having a way back is too worrying not to go by her plan. She tells her so, and Cinder does not comment further.

The place has grimm, just as she had expected. They must have been able to bust the main door open.   
When Winter looks inside she sees claw marks running along the floor and walls. 

“We have to do this as quickly and quietly as we can.”

“Should we split up?” Cinder whispers next to her, “unless you were privy to where the boy was, we don’t really know the exact position of the relic.”

Winter looks at her. The knife she has given her is too short to actually fight grimm, if she were to get in a fight by herself, Winter doubts she would survive. 

Why do I even care?

“Fine.” She finally replies. “I’ll take this corridor, you go down the left one. If you find it, call me on the earpiece I gave you.”

“Want to make a small bet?”

Her voice is playful, and Winter stares at her like she has gone out of her mind.  
“What?”

“I bet I’ll find it, and I’ll be waiting for you at the airship when you reach me.”

“We don’t have time for this.”  
Winter exclaims, almost forgetting to keep her voice low. “We have to retrieve the relic and bring it back, it doesn’t matter who gets it first.”

“Fine,” Cinder tells her as she starts walking, going down the opposite hall Winter had pointed out to her “Just don’t get too mad when I call you.”  
Her singsong voice makes Winter grit her teeth.  
"If I get it first" she thinks "I’m leaving her here."

She had never realized how big the school was until she had to search all of its grounds for a single object. However, she knew where Oscar and his team might have been residing, and she heads straight there. She encounters only a couple of small grimm along the way, that she is quick to dispose of. She is surprised to run into such a few, and she soon finds out why.

Coming at a sudden stop at a corner, she hears faint growls and snapping sounds. When she peeks to the right, she sees a mass of black limbs and fangs almost tangled together, the creatures growl and bark at each other rabidly. They are at least a dozen. Underneath them all, like a single firefly hidden by coal, Winter can make out a faint blue glow.

Going back behind the wall, she turns the communicator on.

“Cinder,” she whispers, “I found it.”

It takes a few second for the other device to work, but then she can hear the woman’s voice crystal clear. “Good. I’ll head to the airship.”

“No, I found it, but I don’t have it.”

There is a short pause. “What are you waiting for, a formal invitation?”

“It seems to be… attracting grimm. There is a small hoard all around it.”

“That’s not good.”

“I need backup, something to distract them. I don’t think I can take them all.”

“I don’t do distractions, Schnee.”

“Of for fuck’s-“

“But I can do an exception, this time. Just cover your ears.”

“What-“

Before she can finish her question, an explosion not too far away resounds all along the hallways, followed by the noise of falling debris. Sure enough, the grimm all raise their heads, running in the direction of the unexpected noise, fangs salivating.

Winter doesn’t lose time to question it, running for the object. The lamp is light in her palm, she feels its glassy coldness even through her gloves. 

“I have it.” She says into her earpiece, before starting to run where she had left the airship. 

“Good,” Cinder seems to be almost out of breath as well, as if she was running too. 

They meet up where they had split, still in the academy. Winter slows down at the sight of her, but Cinder keeps up her pace.

“Did you just blow up the school?!”

“Don’t stop!”

Winter looks behind the woman, and sees she is followed by a pack of three sabyrs, that only speed up when they notice the glowing lamp. Slamming her sword against the ground, Winter has to close her eyes just a few seconds to summon her alpha beowulf, it snarls and launches itself against their enemies at a staggering speed.

“This should hold them off for a while.”  
She comments aloud, before starting to run once again. 

They enter the airship and Winter hurries to the captain seat, hands flying to the commands. They take off in a hurry, followed by enraged howls. They barely have time to sigh in relief, before a griffon flies close enough for the airship to deviate course. 

“Can we make it?” Cinder asks, right behind her. 

“I think so.” She replies “it’s just a few minutes of flight from here.”

There is a span of silence, as Cinder sits on the copilot seat and stares outside, looking at the blood red clouds. The gryphon keeps its distance, but still flying near enough to have the airship in its sight, in the event its metallic prey had a moment of weakness.

“How did you make that explosion, anyways?” Winter asks, alternating between looking in front of her and at the pensive woman.   
A small grin curls Cinder’s lips.   
“Dust.” She says “it’s been some time since I last used it. I forgot how fun it could be.”

“Fun,” Winter murmurs “sure.”

“I noticed you don’t make much use of it, yourself.”

Cinder’s golden eye is inquisitive, and there is a sound of leather gloves cracking against the wheel, as Winter stares ahead.   
“I never needed dust to fight,” she answers “and I never will.”

“Not everyone can be as lucky.” The poison in Cinder’s words is a specific kind she recognizes immediately. She knows it well, has tried it a handful of times in her life.

You were born lucky. You had it all. You are so ungrateful.

Words that she had heard again and again through all of her existence, from family and strangers, from envious people to judgemental ones. They always followed her like a mantra, a shadow she couldn't quite shake.  
Born rich, born powerful. The luckiest of them all. 

"And yet" she thinks "here I am, forgotten by the gods."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think about this chapter! (I do take criticism, but I Will cry)


	3. When hell froze over

She only remembers why they had gone out in the first place when they land on top of her mansion. They get in as quickly as possible, immediately barricading the doors. 

When Winter’s hand goes to her belt to take the relic, she finds it missing, only to see that Cinder is now holding it close to her face.   
The woman is staring at it, quite fascinated.   
“You can’t imagine the troubles I’ve gone through to get this,” she confesses, not taking her gaze off of the blue glow.

“Give it back.”

She darts an annoyed look at Winter, as if she had just interrupted a crucial moment in her life.

“Why,” she says, “it’s not like it’s going to make any difference if I hold it.”

Winter’s gaze is cold and unyielding, but where it would have made any trained soldier quiver, it only seems to spark rage into the other woman, who clutches at the object even tighter, expression challenging.

“I am not going to repeat myself.”

There is suddenly tension in the air, it feels almost electric as she unsheathes her saber, metallic sound ringing all around them. Winter knows that, had Cinder still got her powers, orange flames would be licking at her skin. Now, though, there is only the heat in her golden iris, alight with determination instead of fire.  
After a few tense seconds, the heat in her gaze is gone, and Cinder lazily throws the relic back at her. 

Winter swiftly catches it in her hand. 

“At least I hope you have any idea how it works.” Cinder says, sitting on a sofa, hand coming to fix her hair. She is acting as if nothing has happened at all, uninterested and unbothered.

Winter shakes her head.  
“I thought you did.”

“Well, that’s just great. We are back at square one, it seems.”

Winter wrinkles her nose, examining the object in her hands, handling it carefully. It looks precious, of a blue crystal and golden chains.  
“There must be a way to crack this thing.”

“I still have some fire dust.”

She looks up, staring at a woman seeming far too pleased with herself. 

“Was that a joke?” Winter asks.  
Cinder makes a show of thinking bout it for a few seconds, looking upwards, and then she shrugs. Winter sighs for what feels like the hundredth time that day. 

Figuring out how the lamp works turns out to be a more challenging matter than they had both thought. Winter has looked at it so much that she can see it even through her eyelids when her eyes are closed.  
She has looked for any kind of clue, like a symbol written on the blue glass, or a hidden phrase graven on gold. However, the only thing she has managed to do so far has been to make its size become bigger or smaller when holding it.

Sometimes Cinder sits down at the table with her, looking at her work, chin perched on her hand. She seems to find great amusement in her failings, her expression one of a malicious cat. 

“Could you stop staring?”   
Winter exclaims at some point, basically throwing the damned object back on the kitchen table. The noise of the grimm outside is not doing her headache any favors, either. 

“It’s not like I have much else to do. I barely believe it myself, but you are the biggest source of entertainment in this place.”

“Well, why don’t you go read or… whatever it is you normally do to pass the time!”

Cinder casts her gaze downwards, looking almost embarrassed.  
“I tried, believe me” she replies, “but it’s hard to do… a lot of things, when you only have one hand.”

“Oh.”

Sometimes Winter forgets about that. It’s easy to, in a way, because Cinder constantly keeps it hidden with clothing, and she never talks about it. Despite being in such a situation, she has never asked Winter for assistance on daily chores. That stubbornness is probably due to pride, something that Winter understands well. She would likely act the same way, in her place. Depending on others has never been her forte.

Then a thought strikes her. Reading. Obviously, she is not going anywhere with the lamp by herself, but there must be something recorded about it, even if in a well hidden way. And if there is a place that holds that type of knowledge, it’s the atlesian library.   
She gets up from the chair swiftly, prompting Cinder to raise an eyebrow. 

“I have to go.”

“Where to?”

She’s already putting her coat back on, and straightening the bun on the back of her head.

“The library,” she answers “I need to look for books with information about the relics.”

“By yourself?”

“Someone has to guard the lamp.”

“Oh?” Cinder says “you wouldn’t even let me hold it a few days ago, and now you are leaving me alone with it?”

“I can’t bring it with me, it will attract grimm. And besides,” Winter concludes as she grabs a bag and hangs it on her shoulder. “I doubt you could figure out how to make it function in a few hours. I’ll be back.”

Having a goal, a clear objective, is something that Winter needed. It helps her focus her mind on something, and doesn’t let her thoughts linger in obscure places she still dreads.  
She finds plenty of books to put in her bag, historical and mythological. She even takes a few that are meant to be for children, remembering what Ironwood had told her about the importance of fairy tales.   
She’s on her way out when she sees it, a book with a grey cover, on which is pictured a humanoid android. The name of the author is written in bold green letters: P. Polendina.

The name is like a hit to the chest. Winter misses Penny.   
She was… something different, from her everyday life. She was bright, kind and more human than most of the people she had to deal with on a daily basis. She reminded her a lot of Weiss.  
Before she could spiral back into memories and sorrow, Winter returns to her original thought process.   
Pietro Polendina. Also known for his miraculous prosthetics, that he generously distributes to anyone in need.  
Winter could afford a detour.

She comes back late in the evening, holding a bag full of books in one had, and a large box in another.   
“Cinder?” She calls as she gets in and lets the bag fall on the ground. 

“You are alive.” It’s a dry comment that comes from up the stairs. “What a turn of events.”

Winter rolls her eyes at her theatrical act, before walking in her direction.  
“This is for you,” she says.   
Cinder hesitates at the sight of the box, stopping in her tracks, a few steps from her. She looks suspicious, as if a grimm could pop out of the box and eat her whole.  
The Specialist opens it, then, and the robotic arm, still intact, gleans beneath the artificial lights of the mansion.   
It hadn’t been easy to find the right one into Pietro’s lab, most of his work was locked away behind codes. However, Winter could be as stubborn as she was efficient.

Cinder, for once, seems at a loss of words.

“I don’t need your charity.”  
It comes out as a snappy remark after she has done examining the metallic object from a distance. She's clutching her right shoulder once again, and Winter wonders if it's an involuntary movement, at this point.  
She is not too surprised by that response.

“It’s not charity, Cinder.” She says “I just thought you might need this, so I took it. Consider it a thank you, for not having escaped with the relic.”

Cinder still seems anything but convinced, so Winter goes to put the box on a shelf. “I’ll leave it here,” she says “do what you want with it. I have books to read.”

A couple of hours later, she pretends she doesn’t notice, when through a mirror she sees Cinder cautiously come near the opened box. She keeps her eyes on the page in front of her when the woman tries to feel the smooth metal under her fingertips.  
Winter almost catches herself grinning when she hears a faint gasp come from the fall maiden, as metal becomes one with skin and she first tries to move her new fingers.

As time goes by, they fall into a routine.

They both wake up early, a little after sunrise. Or at least, what Winter thinks would be sunrise, behind the ruby red clouds that keep covering their world in a crimson blanket.   
Cinder almost always has the robot arm with her, now, and Winter often catches her looking at it in bewilderment, as she does a simple motion like curling her fingers. Obviously, they never talk about it.

Maybe it’s because she has little else to do, other than reading, but she finds herself studying the woman a lot. She is fascinating, in her own way, like a rare animal closed in a cage. There is darkness there, one she has already gazed at, in the winter maiden’s room, but she knows she has only seen the surface of it. Yet, buried not too deep, there is also an humanity that is often easy to ignore on criminals such as her.

One thing she does learn about the Fall Maiden, is that she doesn’t like to be alone.

She does it mockingly, trying to provoke a reaction, but she always comes to talk to her, at least a couple of times a day.  
Even if she often plays it off as a casualty, Winter knows the Mansion would be big enough for them to avoid crossing paths, if so desired. When Willow wanted, she could disappear for weeks.   
But Cinder often comes in the same room she is in, with graceful steps and charming smiles.

At some point, she even decides that she, too, wants to help with the research. And so they read in silence, at least until Cinder decides to break it with intrusive questions and observations that often leave Winter reeling.

Cinder is not enough, however, to distract her from the fact that they have been stuck there for weeks, and she has barely found any clues on what has happened. She always keeps her scroll in a pocket of her trousers, hoping for it to buzz with a text from someone known. Of course, it never does.

The lamp almost seems to mock her, at this point, holding the solution to the riddle so close and yet so far. 

The terrifying thought of being stuck there forever, has already grazed her mind a couple of times. What if she never figures out how to make the lamp work?  
What if it answers, and knowledge is even more scary than ignorance?

She lies awake in her bedroom, hands clutching at the sheets, one time she thinks about it. She cannot allow herself to think about what she would lose.  
When her heart doesn’t slow down, she gets up from the mattress, feet touching cold ground. She unlocks the door to her room and steps outside.

She finds Cinder walking down the hall like a forgotten ghost, a shadow that breathes. She has exchanged her usual clothing for a sleeping gown, white and velvety, and her robot arm is missing. Her hair is tousled, now long enough to reach her shoulders.  
With her feet bared, she looks less dangerous and imposing than usual, a lamb standing in the place of the snake. 

However, the knife Winter had given her gleams in her hand.   
“Cinder…?”  
Winter calls out softly, but there is something strange to the woman, she notices. Her single eye does not burn golden as the sun, it’s dull and unfocused. 

Cinder raises the dagger, expression morphing into one of pure, unfiltered terror.   
“Leave me alone!”   
It’s a scream that chills Winter to the bone.   
“I never wanted this, you did not say- you did not tell me what-“

She’s incomprehensible in her stuttering, and Winter knows she is not fully awake, relieving a memory, a nightmare, or a bit of both. She has seen it on others before, soldiers that come back with their bodies, but have left their minds there, with cruel bandits or souless grimm. Some of them heal with time, some never really return. 

“Cinder, it’s just me.”   
She tries, keeping her voice quiet.   
Instead of awakening, though, the woman abruptly falls on her knees, the handle of the knife pressed against her temple as she clutches at her head.  
Even in the dim lights, she can see a transparent teardrop fall on marble.   
There is another bloodcurdling scream, soon broken by uncontrollable sobbing. 

How shattered can a woman be, to be reduced to such a state? How much has she gazed into darkness, to be strangled by it?  
Maybe in a few hours she will be disgusted by such a foul woman once again, but right now, in the middle of a night that looks exactly like day, Winter comes in front of her and gently takes the knife from her hand. 

“You are just dreaming.” She murmurs softly, trying to keep the blade far from her face.  
She doesn’t expect it, when Cinder reaches out for her, settling her face against her collarbone, black hair tickling sensitive skin. Cinder cries, she wets her neck with burning hot tears, and Winter does not quite hold her, but she still doesn’t back away.   
They stay like that for a long time, hours even, and Winter only dares to move again when the woman is sleeping against her, breath now soft and rhythmic.   
She brings her in the bedroom Cinder had chosen for herself days before, and leaves her there, on top of white sheets, looking like a broken doll. 

The next day, Cinder doesn’t show up.

Winter tries to shrug it off, because she is not a child, she can take care of herself. She is not a friend, or even an ally, just an enemy with her same objectives that happens to share her roof. She is not going to be worried about her like some kind of babysitter.  
Still, it feels strange, not to be bothered, for once. To come at the end of a chapter without having had to stop to glare menacingly.  
It’s better this way, she tells herself. 

She does eventually show up, the day after. wearing all black, prosthetic arm in place, looking like some dark messenger of the gods.

“We have ran out of food”.

Winter hadn’t noticed, probably because she often forgets to eat. It’s a problem she has always had, to remind herself to grab a bite only when her stomach is hurting, after long and trying missions.

“I’ll have to go look for it, then.”

“I’ll go this time.”

She almost objects, but then she sees the look Cinder is giving her and she stops. It reminds her of Ironwood, she notices with a shiver. It’s the kind of look of someone used to leading unquestionably. 

She comes back with what they needed, along with two black blades, and new jewels shining on her ears. She also has a bag bursting with fabric.

“Weren’t you supposed to take food?,” Winter says when she sees her holding multiple bags, “did you go to the shopping centre and just grabbed whatever you pleased?”

“Yes.” Cinder replies nonchalantly. “I had fun, too. Not that you would know what that is, anyways.”

Winter can almost feel the steam come out of her ears. “Is this all a joke to you?” She tells her “don’t you want to go back?”

“I do.” She answers, “I just don’t see why we should hurry.”

“I have people that depend on me.”

“I’m sure they have already replaced you with another faithful soldier, don’t give yourself too much credit. They have even started to build them, now, haven’t they?”

“Shut your mouth.” She seethes, stepping near her kneeled form as she watches her twirl the new pieces of cloth between her fingers.   
With the calm of someone that has no worries in her world, Cinder gets up, finally looking at her as challenging as ever, eyebrow raised. They are approximately same height, eyes meeting on a straight line.

“Make me.” She whispers, close enough for Winter to smell her perfume. 

She throws a punch before she can stop herself, and the woman is ready. She easily dodges to the side, smug grin already in place. 

Winter grabs her saber.

Metal connects against the two short swords Cinder had just stolen, emitting a grinding sound. 

“Want to finish what we started, Schnee?” There is something feral about Cinder, now, as Winter presses her back, feeling her arms tremble against the opposing force. It's a feeling of dejavu, for sure.

They both jump back at the same time, and Cinder is already in position, ready to spring forward.

She dodges another of Winter’s swipes, before her boot connects with her gut, making Winter gasp as she stumbles backwards. 

“You couldn’t beat me before, with the robot,” Cinder taunts her “what makes you think you can do it now?”

“Don’t call her that.”

“Her?” Cinder laughs, “it’s nothing but an object, Schnee.”

Their blades connect yet again, the only difference from back then, is that Cinder’s eye is not burning of an orange flame. They spar, both looking for an opening, for a failing in their honed tactics.

Somehow, Cinder makes her lose balance, and Winter falls on her back in a rather graceless manner. For the first time she is beyond glad no one else is there to see her fail so spectacularly.  
Quick as a tiger, Cinder is on her, hips straddling her waist and black blade held a few centimeters from her throat.

“I win.” Her smile is wide and gleaming above her. Winter knows her weapon has fallen far too distant for her to grab it from that position. She lets her head lean on the floor and her eyes close.

Cinder yelps when she is thrown off of her by a snow white beowulf, it pins her down with its jaws a breath away from her face. 

“That’s cheating!”  
The childish scream comes almost immediately, breathless and offended.

Winter doesn’t know if it is because of the indignation in her voice, or of the way adrenaline is running through her own veins, but suddenly her heavy breathing morphs into an open laugh, one that grows to make her chest shake while she stays there on the ground. She turns to find Cinder looking at her with a mixture of annoyance and surprise, and her laugh becomes even stronger, she’s unable to stop it and she wonders if she ever will. 

It’s not joyful, not really. It’s almost hysterical in its nature.

She forgets to read even one page, that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve already ran out of written chapters, so updates will be slower. Let me know what you think!


	4. One step forward

Winter is really growing to hate that lamp. No book she has scanned so far, and it is a big enough pile, seems to mention the maidens or the relics even once. She huffs, feeling a migraine build in the back of her head, and leans her back against the chair. She is starting to wonder if this is even the right course of action after all, and not just a colossal waste of time.  
To add to her many frustrations, Cinder is just as uncaring as ever. She hasn't even tried to open a book, lately, lost in her own new projects.  
Winter gets up from her chair and stretches slowly, feeling her back pop a couple of times. Being immobile for hours at length has never been something she was used to, while performing as a specialist. She needs to move. 

On her way to the gym, she finds Cinder in the room she usually picks to spend her time in, with a needle between her lips and red satin in her hands. 

"I didn't know you sewed." She comments, making the woman look up.  
Cinder hums, before using a couple of freshly manicured fingers to take the needle she was holding out of her mouth.  
"It's an hobby that has always helped me to relax," she answers, before carefully pulling out a golden thread, attention back on her work "it's been a while since I last practiced it, though."

Winter nods, and she is going to move on, when her eyes fall on a small red pile on the table in front of Cinder.   
"Is that… dust? Are you sewing dust into clothing?"

"Yes." Cinder replies, pausing her work once more to look up at her.

She watches her hands once again, this time more carefully. They move fluid and swiftly, threading the cloth with care, forming incomprehensible patterns, that glow for a few seconds before cooling off.

"That's impressive."

A raised eyebrow is all the reaction she gets.   
"I know." 

Winter mentally rolls her eyes, because the last thing she wants to do, is to stroke Cinder's already huge enough ego. But it is impressive. Winter has only known of big industries that do that, through machines, and the resulting clothing comes to cost enormous numbers, if done well. Handling dust like that is no joking matter. 

"Are you just going to stare like that? I know I'm pretty, but I need to focus."

Winter stutters a few indignated words at that, completely taken aback. 

"T-that's not what I was doing at all- I-!"

Cinder's expression is now the one of a cat who got the cream, and it makes Winter’s blood boil.

"I'm going to train in the gym." She finally declares, before storming off in what she hopes doesn't seem like a retreat. 

Physical activity has never felt so liberating. She goes through the routine the trainers put her through when she was still an academic student, until her muscles are trembling and she has to take a break, water bottle in hand. Sometimes she wishes, instead of doing research, to just have an enemy to defeat in order to bring things back to normal.

Have the others disappeared, or are they just outside of those clouds? Have Cinder and herself been transported into another world, entirely?  
There is just too many unknowns to face, and still so little to base answers on.   
Making the relic of knowledge work would be a huge step forward. Hopefully. 

She just wishes the general could be there. He would know what to do, what to tell her to do. 

Winter considers to start keeping a diary, a small journal she can update daily, just to pass the time. She checks the scroll to write in the date, and she almost drops the object. One month has passed. One month is way too much.   
Literally anything could have happened in that span of time. The one thing that reassures her is that Cinder is stuck with her, and cannot consequently cause trouble somewhere else. As long as the Fall Maiden is locked away, Salem has lost not only her best weapon, but the possibility to get the Beacon relic as well. 

“What are you doing?”

The words breathed against her ear make her jump on the chair, and Winter almost falls off. Cinder is looking down on her with a smug smile, robotic arm posed on her hip. The Specialist can feel her heartbeat thundering against her chest, and gods she’s going to kill that woman. 

With an infuriated look, she snaps the diary closed.   
“Be thankful I didn’t have my weapon, or I would have stabbed you on the spot.”

“As if.” Cinder answers, with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Have you figured out how to get us out of this mess, yet?” She asks, turning serious. 

“Not yet. But I would make faster progress if I didn’t have to do everything by myself.”

“Obviously.”

“Why don’t you help? I thought you wanted to get out of here at least as much as I do.”

“I do want that, obviously.” Cinder replies bitterly, taking a seat in front of her, “I just want to do that after… well…” she moves her wrist in a circle, leaving the rest to Winter’s interpretation. 

“Is this about your powers?”

“Yes.” Her golden eye, usually hot and alive, is now cold and harsh like metal. “I need it. I can’t go back without it, not when Salem…” Winter notices a small shudder run through her body, that she would have missed hadn’t she been paying close attention. Cinder doesn’t need to finish her sentence for the Specialist to understand the meaning behind those words.

“Salem. What is she like?”

A joyless, short laugh escapes the maiden’s lips. “Ever the curious woman. I was waiting for you to ask me that.” She scratches her metal arm as she talks, gaze now lost somewhere behind Winter. “In truth? She is… everything I want to be. She is strong, feared, powerful in a way no other is. To meet her, it feels like meeting death itself.” She pauses, considering “I dread her just as much as I look up to her.”

“That’s something strange to hear, coming from one of her most loyal.”

“Loyalty does not imply love. Or complete trust.”

Winter does not agree, but she’s not prone to break the sudden peace that has settled between the two of them.   
“The relic could tell us how to get your powers back, as well.” Winter tries, careful to hide her uncertainty.

There is something that she still has not told Cinder, something that has been dragging her down more than anything else. The memory of what Ironwood had said, long ago, about Ozpin’s experience with the relic. That the possible questions had all been used, already.   
All of Winter’s hope resides in the possibility that that had been a lie.

She still needs Cinder’s help, though. Were she to know how hopeless their cause is, she could leave- or worse, find a way to stab her in her sleep. Bluffing when it comes to a murderer, after all, shouldn’t make her feel too guilty.

The woman considers that, finger now drumming against metal.   
“It could.” She finally answers, not too convinced.

“Does that mean you are going to actually help me?”

“Maybe. Have you considered looking up files in your general’s database? He was close to Ozpin, if I remember correctly.”

“There is no need. All he knew of the relics he told me.”

“He might have kept something close to his chest.”

“The general does not hide things from me.”

Cinder gives her an expression that is something in between pity and amusement. Even with an eyepatch on to hide almost half of her face, she manages to come off as incredibly expressive. Winter finds it very annoying.

“I think we should check. Just in case he… forgot, to tell you something.”

Her voice is dripping with sarcasm.

Winter clenches her jaws, but figures there would be no harm in trying. She has been looking for an excuse to get out of there for a while, after all.

“I’ll go.” She says.   
She cannot wait to prove her wrong.

Finding out that Cinder was right, is both maddening and frustrating. Having to admit, out loud, that Cinder was right, is something Winter wouldn’t have done even under torture, had it been in any other scenario.

“You were right.” She says as she comes back, foul mood well evident, every syllable cutting her tongue like needles. The grimm that had been unfortunate enough to cross her path on the way back, had been reduced to ash in mere seconds.   
“He had some files about things Ozpin has let slip, but nothing too specific. He talks of some kind of genie.” 

“Genie? Well, that reduces our searching field.”

“I just… don’t get why he didn’t tell me.”

Cinder shrugs at her mumbling, “I don’t see why you act so surprised. A leader doesn’t owe any unnecessary explanation to his minions. It doesn’t even seem like relevant information.”

Sometimes, talking to Cinder feels like talking to a wall. A very witty, easily offended wall, but made of bricks nonetheless. 

“Is that how you see everyone around you?” Winter wonders, talking more to herself than the woman in front of her, “Minions? Tools?”

“I didn’t peg you as the type to give speeches on the importance of friendship.”  
Once again, she doesn’t really answer to her question. 

“I’m not. I was just wondering. I’m a curious woman, remember?”

Cinder frowns.   
“Should we go check those books again?” She sounds irritated, now, so Winter does not push it.

There is a couple of scripts Winter has found that she had thought interesting. They are philosophy and physics books, that treat the subject of parallel universes, all kept in something called the multiverse.  
It’s all hypothesis, still, but at this point she wouldn’t rule out that they have somehow ended in a world that is a mirror of their own.   
But…genies? Those are stories told to children to put them to sleep. No esteemed scientist has ever studied genies.   
To be fair, no esteemed scientist has ever studied glowing lamps created by the gods themselves, at the side of a maiden, though. 

“All fairytales are born from something true,” Cinder’s soothing voice brings her out of her reverie. She is holding a book, with golden letters engraved on its cover.  
“The Story Of The Seasons” is written on it.  
She puts it back, carefully, as if it was made of fragile crystal.   
“I used to read them often, as a child.”

Now, that is new. Winter stays quiet, wondering if she will keep talking, unveiling some of the many secrets that envelope the woman like persistent shadows. 

“And ‘The boy and his enchanted nights’ was one of those.”   
As she says that, she picks another children book. This one is thicker, of a dark blue color. She quickly turns the pages, eye scanning familiar words. 

“He took the golden lamp in his hand, and said the creature’s name into the starry night. In a burst of blue light the genie appeared, ready to answer to the boy’s wishes.”  
She reads aloud.

Winter takes the book from her hands, silently reading the sentence once again.  
“So we have to find out its name, if that’s the way to go.”

“Yes, that’s going to be simple. It’s not like that many names exist.”

Winter groans.

/

“Why are you here?”  
Winter asks as she leans forward with her fencing sword, sweat already running down her back. She has put on her training clothes, that lend her more freedom with her movements.  
Cinder has just come in front of the entrance, watching from a distance. 

“I was wondering if you would like a sparring partner,” she says “hitting a dummy can’t be a lot of fun.” 

Winter looks at the worn out sack, it somewhat resembles a human body, pierced and slashed in many spots. Figuring that at this point, she might as well spar with a killer known in all of remnant, she consents with a nod of her head. 

Now that she is not dueling for her life, she can analyze her fighting style better. Cinder relies more on speed than she does on strength, she can dodge whatever comes to her, no matter how unexpected. Her skill with the two blades is nothing short of flawless. Winter, however, is not a pushover herself.   
Their techniques are noticeably different when they are fighting with a cool head, with no obvious murdering intent.

When Winter is able to knock one of the two swords out of her hand, Cinder looks at her with a pleased smile. “Not bad.”  
She is taken aback by the unexpected comment, so much so that Cinder uses that momentum of surprise to tear the saber out of her hand.   
She looks incredibly smug, now, golden eye shining with victory.

“I win.”

“It wasn’t a challenge.” Winter protests, bending to pick up her weapon from the ground.   
At that moment Cinder suddenly winces, closing her eye and bringing her hand to the metallic arm, letting the last of her two swords fall in the process. It makes a rattling noise. 

“Everything alright?” Winter asks, watching her attentively. The woman nods a couple of times, taking in a deep breath. 

“Just phantom pains.” She replies, turning her back on Winter.

She doesn’t know herself why, exactly, she did it, but she reaches out to touch her shoulder. Cinder immediately flinches away, as if burned.  
“Don’t.” She growls, “the last thing I want is your pity.” 

Winter watches her go, a flurry of black and gold like a piece of night sky lit by the moon. She sighs. One step forward, two steps back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for all the positive feedback, it really motivates me to write when I know people like reading what I make.


	5. Confessions

It has been years, since she has last spent so much time in the Mansion. There are no longer servants or her family walking through the halls, but it still doesn’t seem that much emptier or colder than before. Dust has begun to settle in some areas, the place is too big to keep it clean only by herself. 

Winter has gone out and taken more books from the library, ones that mention fantastic creatures such as genies, or, as she has seen them called, djinns. However, Cinder’s apparent burst of interest in her research has already dwindled down, leaving her alone in her studies once again. 

She stops in front of the kitchen’s door, once, the room that used to host a dozen chefs for her father’s parties, that Cinder is now using on her own.  
A freshly baked cake stands next to her, its sweet aroma making Winter’s stomach grumble. The image of the killer, the powerful Fall Maiden, looking critically at a cake she has probably just baked, is as surreal as everything else in that strange place Winter is stuck in. 

“The food doesn’t go bad.”  
The woman in black is the first to speak, even if she has yet to look up in Winter’s direction. She doesn’t have her usual cape on, leaving her shoulders bared. “The eggs seem to be as good as when we came here.”  
Winter lifts her brow. It’s hardly the most surprising discovery they have made, but it is peculiar nonetheless. It will be easier to find resources, at least. 

Cinder grabs a kitchen knife, cutting into the sweet. “Want some?” She asks, settling a piece of cake on a plate before Winter can answer.  
“How do I know there is not some kind of arsenic in there?” Winter inquires, approaching her.

“If I had wanted to kill you, you wouldn’t be here worrying.”

“I don’t know,” She shrugs, as she takes off one of her gloves. “You are rather unpredictable.”  
That said, she grabs a small piece with two fingers, and pops it in her mouth. After months of canned food she has looted from abandoned stores, the chocolate flavor that bursts on her tongue feels like a blessing. Her expression must have given it away, because Cinder is smirking at her.

“Glad you enjoy.”

“This is…” Winter says as she swallows, “this is really good.” As she takes another bite, a question comes to the front of her mind.  
“Did you use to bake often?”  
Cinder shrugs. “When I was younger, yes. I’ve taken care of cooking since I was twelve.”

“Why so young?”

“We can’t all have servants in our life, can we?”

That defensive response doesn’t really answer the question. But Winter is becoming used to those non-answers Cinder seems to hand out so often. She has also learned that when the woman doesn’t want to give something away, it’s better not to insist. 

“How was it?” Cinder inquires, leaning against the counter. “Living in a place like this, I mean. So far from the common folk.”  
If Winter didn’t know better, she would think Cinder was trying to make small talk. But Winter does know better, and she can feel the hint of envious spite on the tip of the woman’s words.

“To be honest?” Winter says, with a deadpan expression. “Horrible.”  
Cinder crosses her arms loosely in front of her chest, waiting for her to continue. Winter swears she could see a flash of genuine surprise in her expression, but it’s gone before she can even process it.  
“I’ve always felt trapped in here. My father was- is- an abusive, horrible man. And my mother drowned herself in alcohol because of it. I ran away the second I could.”  
“In the military.” Cinder continues for her.  
“In the military.” Winter agrees, side eyeing her. 

“If I were you, I would have simply killed your father. Make it look like an accident, inherit the company.”

“You say that as if I never thought about it.”

Cinder gives a short, startled laugh at that. Winter is taken aback, once again, by how easy it is to converse with the woman, at times. There is always a small part of her consciousness nagging at her brain, reminding her just who she has in front of her. The enemy. Someone that, in different circumstances, would have killed her without a second thought.  
Winter puts the plate down, her hunger having suddenly vanished. 

Cinder must have noticed her mood swing, because the small grin fades from her lips. An uncomfortable silence falls over them like a heavy blanket, and Winter is about to excuse herself before Cinder speaks once again.

“I could prepare dinner, if you want.”

Winter finds herself at a loss of words. They didn’t really do dinner, or lunch or- well, they never really ate together. Usually they tended to their own food, and the occasional conversation started whenever they found themselves in the same room. Cinder’s proposal was a new one. A peace offering, maybe.  
The Fall Maiden must have mistaken the absence of a response for a rejection, because she suddenly raises her chin in defiance. “Or not. I can find a better way to spend my time, anyways. Do enjoy the canned food.”

The way her mood can flip so quickly is starting to drive Winter mad.  
“No, wait.” She calls, and Cinder, who had already started to walk away, stops in her tracks, without turning her head. “I’m fine with it, I was just not expecting it. That’s all.”  
She can almost hear the smirk in her voice when she answers: “see you in a couple of hours, then.”

She decides to go into her father’s study, then. In the first days they were blocked in the Mansion, Winter had eluded that room as well as she could. It doesn’t spark memories she’s found of, the first things that come to mind are the sound of angered shouts or a sting to her cheek. She puts a gloved palm over it absentmindedly, covering the remembrance of pain. 

By now, though, she has finally found the will to go in, and look for all the things she had never been privy to. Jacque's office is big, and smells of wood and expensive whiskey. There is two glasses set on a small table, the ice having long melted into water.  
She notices a chessboard, pawns displayed for a match that has yet to end. Both of the queens are off the board. 

With her finger she trails over the dusty shelves, analyzing the books, title by title, out of sheer habit. They are expensive and rare scripts, but she doubts her father has ever read even a single page. They are just out in display, as most things in that man’s life are.

She doesn’t know what, exactly, she’s looking for. Maybe it’s just the triumphant feeling to be there when the man can’t stop her. It doesn’t really last long. She inhales one deep breath, and closes the door behind her, feeling the eyes of her father’s portrait probing her back.

Cinder chooses the dining room for their dinner, only two plates set on the extravagantly long table. The last time she had eaten here, Weiss had arrested their father. The ghost of a smile dances on her lips at that bittersweet memory. It both feels like ages ago, and like time hasn’t passed at all.  
Winter, not knowing how she should be acting, finally decides to sit down.

Cinder doesn’t take too much time to arrive, and when she does, Winter feels her own eyes widen. The woman isn’t wearing her usual clothes, but a long, flowing black dress with hints of gold. She is a starking contrast against the whites and blues reigning in the room, a black diamond over marble.  
She’s beautiful.  
Winter has noticed before, she does have eyes, after all. But her beauty was usually second in factor to the aura of danger and raw power the woman carried like a crown. Her beauty was so natural, such a fundamental part of her, Winter had never really given it much thought.  
But now, under the lights of the crystal chandeliers, dressed like nobility, it hits Winter unabashedly. 

“Where-“ Winter has to clear her throat when her voice comes out in a low rasp “where did you get that?”  
Cinder’s smile is slow and sultry, knowing she has an ethereal look and owning up to it. It makes Winter’s fist clench and her stomach coil in unexplainable anger.

“I made it.”

‘Of course you did’, she thinks. Is there something the woman cannot do? It’s stupid, but Winter suddenly has the childish impulse to start listing a series of skills until she finds one Cinder lacks in.  
The woman sits down in a flawlessly elegant movement, her metal arm shining beneath the lights.  
The food was already on the table when Winter had arrived, a red steak surrounded by vegetables. A deep red wine stands between the plates.

“What is all of this for?” Winter asks, unwilling to take part in whatever farce Cinder wants to play.  
She doesn’t hesitate to answer, probably having come to expect the Specialist’s curtness.

“Dinner, clearly.” she smiles, amused at Winter’s unappreciative glare. “Does everything I do have to have an ulterior motive?”  
“I would expect nothing less.”  
Wine is poured in a glass, it’s a deep dark red that reminds Winter of blood, unlike the clouds that surround their little world, which are of a brighter color.

“A clever woman.” She answers “Too bad you are wasted as Ironwood’s bloodhound.”  
A compliment and an insult at the same time. Apparently it’s what Cinder does, singing praise before sinking her teeth in.  
Winter gets up, scraping her chair against the floor, ready to leave her there gloating in her own smugness.  
“I am not putting up with this.”

“Stay.”

Cinder’s hand on her fist makes her still. She’s barely touching her, with soft skin and dark nails.  
“I didn’t want to make you upset.”  
It’s not an apology, but then again, Winter doubts Cinder Fall apologises often. She finally sits back down, willing to give her another chance, more out of curiosity than anything else. Cinder withdraws her hand.

The woman pours her a glass of wine, and Winter’s eyes barely flick on it before she can say: “I don’t drink.”  
“And why not? It’s not like you are on duty right now.”  
“It confuses the mind and relaxes the body in a false sense of security,” Her back stiffens slightly as that same old excuse slips from her tongue, “I want to be vigilant at all times.”

Cinder curls her lips and takes a sip, experimenting the new taste. She seems satisfied when she puts the glass back down.  
“A pity.”

What Winter did not expect was for the dinner to be actually enjoyable. Despite herself, the Specialist likes the way Cinder talks, when she’s not acting like an egomaniac. Where she is used to robots and soldiers doing her bidding unquestioningly, Cinder has a quick wit, and she’s not afraid to express her own judgment wherever she sees it due. She is charismatic, someone people would naturally follow, no matter the consequences.  
The more time she spends with her, the more she’s reminded of Ironwood. An unpleasant shiver runs down her spine at the thought. She doubts either of them would appreciate the comparison.

“Do you ever regret it? Joining Salem, killing so many people.”

Winter knows it’s not a light subject, but none of the two is a fan of small, meaningless talk. Cinder is halfway through her third glass, and her brows furrow, making the bandage on her left eye wrinkle slightly. 

“My killing count is probably lower than you think.” She starts, swirling the red liquid in her glass. “So far, it only has been Pyrrha Nikos, who came to me first, and a few unfortunate souls which happened to be on my path.”

“What about all the deaths you indirectly caused at Beacon?”  
She was expecting a scoff, or an insufferable laugh. However, Cinder just lowers her eye, gaze lost somewhere on the table.  
“Do you know how many people die, for the simple fact they aren’t part of a small, powerful elite?”

The subject change makes Winter shift on place. Cinder doesn’t give her the time to answer.  
“How many people have been devoured by grimm for a lack of protection, how many end up starved on the streets, how many slaughtered by bandits?” Her voice is picking up heat, but it doesn’t really get louder, a scalding flame that stays on its place, for now. “People like you get to live in a place like this,” she accuses, “and then there is others that have to crawl on the streets to get to survive another day. You know what? Beacon may have made a scandal, but hundreds always die without any of you ever even hearing about it.”

Winter was not expecting this.  
“An unjust society doesn’t excuse the slaughter of innocents.”  
“It doesn’t.” Cinder agrees with a nod, “I have simply been doing what everyone in this world does, one way or another. What’s in my best interests.”

“And was that in you best interests?” Winter is looking at the robotic arm, and when Cinder notices, she scowls.  
“Salem is rarely sincere with her offers,” she replies, “often, I find myself with more drawbacks than advantages. I accepted the grimm arm to get the powers. Now that the powers are gone, keeping that thing was not an option I was willing to consider.”

“Won’t she get mad?”

Color drains from her face, as Cinder takes a small sip of wine. “Oh, she will.”  
She is scared, Winter realizes. 

Silence stretches on, both of their dishes having been long emptied.  
Cinder’s shoulders slowly begin to relax, and when she looks back at Winter the dark heat is gone from her own expression.  
“Your turn,” she says, “do you ever regret joining the military?”

She should have expected it.  
“It felt like the best choice at the time.” She replies, “Now, though, I…”  
it’s hard to bring her feelings to words, Winter isn’t used to it. No one had ever asked if that was what she wanted, she had simply been dragged away from a place she didn’t want to stay in. 

“I’m not sure. I always hide behind the decisions someone else does for me, no matter what I think of them.”  
She blinks a couple of times. Is this really how she feels?  
“No matter if those decisions are the right ones.”

“You know, I hated you at first, Schnee.”

Winter scoffs.  
“The fireball you threw my way was an indicator enough of that.”

Cinder smirks, “I thought you were a self entitled little soldier, without any interest for anything else other than to follow orders and climb through ranks. I don’t, now.”  
The Specialist feels her throat tighten and her breath quicken. What does that even mean?  
“...what are you trying to say?”

Cinder gets up, with the elegance of a dark swan. Her gaze is meaningful, a shining gold.  
“That there could have been worse people to be stuck here with.”  
Her smile is now absent, and the woman wonders if she’s thinking of other possible companionships, or how they might have ended.

“Have a good night.”

Winter just watches her go, the sound of glass heels ticking in her ears.  
‘What does it says of me, if a ruthless murder likes my company?’  
She is not sure she wants to know the answer.

Winter doesn’t sleep at night, instead, she watches the clock on her wall tick by as her mind runs through each word they had exchanged.  
She knows Cinder shouldn’t go back, that if there is a way to keep her locked there, the Specialist should take it.  
But for the first time, Winter asks herself if what she want is to return to a life that has never really felt as her own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am back with a new chapter! I’m sorry for the slow update, hope the next one will be quicker.  
> Thanks to everyone of you that left kudos or reviews on my story, I love you and you’re the reason I keep writing (I know I haven’t answered to all of you, because I always feel awkward when I do it, but know that I read and cherish each comment.)
> 
> If you want to talk to me, you could always hit me up on tumblr. I’m @weiss-sneezes.


	6. Fair is foul and foul is fair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am back!!! Sorry for the long wait, and thank u sm for the kudos/comments, they are what keeps me going! Even if I don’t reply know that I’ve read and cherished your comments.  
> I really hope you enjoy this new chapter, see you at the end!

Of all things, Cinder didn’t think she would have missed the moon so much. She had never realized before, how that shattered satellite had accompanied her through the loneliest nights, and just how comforting its silver light had been.  
Now, the sky is always red.

In many ways, Schnee Manor reminds her of Salem’s castle. It’s grand, empty, and there is the constant sound of grimm howling just outside the doors. She wonders if Salem knows of her presence through the creatures, or if in that weird cage not even she can reach.   
The main difference, of course, is the people inhabiting it. If Cinder has to be honest with herself, Winter is many things, but never worse than Watts or Tyrian. Even thinking about them makes her shiver, an unpleasant thrill running down her spine.

But Winter is… actually not that bad. She is stubborn, distrustful and far too into Ironwood’s beliefs, but she’s also strong and intelligent. The fact that her buttons are so easy to push, is just one more appealing factor. Cinder can work with her, and maybe they will come to a point when she will be looked up to. Winter is no Emerald, and never will be, but she is no lost cause either. 

Emerald. She hasn’t thought of her in a while, of her utter adoration and quick hand. She wonders if she and Mercury are doing alright beneath Salem, if they think of her at all. Emerald probably does, at least.   
’Is that how you see everyone around you? As minions? Tools?’  
That cool, regal voice speaks in her head. Sometimes, Winter’s words inexplicably get to her, and stay there, nestled inside her brain.

There is little point in caring for other people, Cinder has learned this lesson at a very young age. Love and affection are expendable in life, and she has done fine without them for quite a while now. It’s a matter of surviving and conquering, of becoming strong enough to never feel fear again. Love can only be in the way of that.

Now, however, she might have lost everything she had gained through her hard work. Her powers had left her in a burst of white light, along with what seems to be the rest of the world. Winter is convinced they will make it back, but Cinder is beginning to doubt there exists a place to return to to begin with. She has had a lot of time to think, lately, without that black, all consuming hunger slowly eating away her sanity. She wonders if getting back to how things were would be worth it, or if she should just vanish here. Without maiden powers, Salem would likely want her dead just as much as her enemies. 

“You are being suspiciously quiet.”

Cinder smirks, in contrast with her real thoughts. “I didn’t think you would complain about that.”

“I’m not complaining, I’m merely surprised.” Winter scoffs. She still spends most of her hours reading, looking for the genie’s name in one of the many inked pages. Cinder wonders how long it will take for her to finally give up on that search.  
“Seen just how much you like to hear yourself talk.”

With someone else, in a different situation, Cinder would have burnt their face off. Here, at this moment, with Winter, she simply rolls her eye.   
She reminds her of Neo, in some way. Though even Winter is more talkative than the silent criminal.

She gets off the couch, slowly walking in the Specialist’s direction. The woman’s shoulders tense visibly, and Cinder knows she is ready to spring should the need occur.   
It’s always a pleasant feeling, sweet on her tongue, when someone as powerful and important as Winter shows a semblance of fear.

“We should get out of here.”

Winter raises a brow. “Yes, we’ve been trying to for quite some time, now.”

“Very funny, Schnee,” She replies, clearly unamused “I meant out of here. The manor.”  
“And where to?”  
“I don’t know. I just need to get out before I go insane.”  
Winter makes to open her mouth, and Cinder just knows the sarcastic comment that is gonna come out of it- you are already crazy, Cinder Fall.

“Then go. We can’t leave the relic unsupervised.”

Cinder exhales. Why is she so surprised Winter didn’t go for the insult?  
‘Because it’s what you would have done.’ A voice speaks in her head. It’s not an unfamiliar one, but it’s unwelcomed nonetheless. She ignores it.

“The manor is clearly safe, and the relic isn’t going anywhere on its own. It will be fine.”

“Why do you want me to come with you?”  
Cinder grins.  
“So that you can protect me from the big bad grimm, of course.”

This time, both of Winter’s fair brows raise up. But maybe she needs to get out of that same place just as much as Cinder does- if not more so- because she just huffs and says:  
“Alright. But we’re back in a few hours.”

Cinder feels her smirk soften at her compliance, she has to let it drop the moment she realizes it. 

“Let’s go, then.”

They decide to go down to Mantle, to scout the streets and the shops for something they may need. Winter makes a comment on the weather- it’s mild, not as freezing as it should be when Watts had turned the heat off.  
Cinder has long stopped questioning the weirdness of their ruby bubble.

They end up in a dark building, and when Winter turns the light on, after a moment of searching for the switch, they both come to the same realization.  
“A club?”

It’s completely isolated, with half empty glasses scattered all over the tables, while the dance floor is deserted. But it is a club. If she was feeling poetic, Cinder would say she could feel the emptiness of that place weighing on her chest. Laughter, music and dancing, everything that should be there just isn’t. She goes to trail her fingers on the counter, gathering dust on her skin. 

“Of course, the only time I go to a place like this, the rest of the world has literally vanished.”

That comment makes Cinder turn around, so she can see Winter gaze at the dance floor with a wishful look in her eyes.  
“You’ve never been to a club?”  
She shakes her head. “No. My father organized fancy balls when I was still a teenager, but I never attended to something quite so…”

“Normal?”

“Mundane, yes.”

Silence settles on them for only a few seconds, before Cinder talks again.  
“Me neither. I’ve gone to a couple before, but it was always for business, never for myself.”

“I really don’t want to know what kind of ‘business’ you had at those clubs.”

The corner of Cinder’s mouth lifts up in a conspiratorial grin at the memories suddenly rushing at her. 

“I’ll let you know, I was an incredibly good dancer.”  
“Oh?”  
“Yes, it’s a natural talent.”

Winter lifts her chin, looking at her with a challenge in those stunning crystal-blue eyes. Cinder likes that look, it’s one of those few times the woman lets her cold and rigid exterior waver.  
“I’ll be the judge of that,” She states “considering I’ve done dancing lessons for years.”  
Cinder is already moving towards the console, finding it still intact. She pushes a few buttons, letting a songless tune fill the room. She then extends a hand- the real one- to Winter’s direction.

“Let’s see, then.”

Winter frowns, hesitating in her light mood, almost coming back to her usual self. She steps back, looking at her hand like a dog would look at a treat offered by a stranger.

“What? I’m not dancing with you.”

Cinder cocks her head to the side, dark locks grazing her shoulders.  
“Scared I will outclass you, Schnee?”

Winter looks at her face, and then at her hand once again. Cinder knows she will take it- neither of them is the kind of person to back out from a challenge.  
The Specialist’s gloved hand finally fits into hers, and Cinder wastes no time to pull her in. 

There is no lead, both dance around the other as if it was an opponent rather than a partner. Cinder gets close enough into Winter’s face to see if she will step back, but Winter obviously doesn’t, and so they are dancing close together, in hopes that the other will stumble.  
Winter was not lying- she is good, and her dancing reminds Cinder of the way she uses her weapon, precise and elegant. She stares into her eyes, blue and magnetic. She’s a soldier even when she dances, perfect but mechanical, too predictable.  
That’s why she gasps out in surprise, when Winter circles her waist with one arm and brings her even closer.

She can feel the woman’s labored breath on her lips, and suddenly the music stops playing, leaving them alone in an empty club once again. They stay there for what might be an eternity, before Winter releases her, taking a step back.   
For just a second, Cinder feels the impulse to follow right after.

“You were right, you are talented.” There is a slight darker tinge to her usually pale cheeks, it’s almost unnoticeable. Winter fixes her hair, a nervous movement Cinder has come to know, white locks of hair being fixed beneath an ear just for them to fall again, rebellious.

“And your dancing lessons have served you well.” 

“One of the few things I enjoyed, back then.”

That is one thing she still struggles to understand about Winter, the young woman seems to hate what her childhood had been. Not that Cinder couldn’t relate to that, but…  
Winter had been rich. She had a family name, a grand, memorable name. She was someone the day she was born.  
Cinder hadn’t had all that. She had been left to feed on crumbs that people like Winter left- and still Winter was unhappy.

If someone like an heiress can’t be satisfied with her life, who can?

“Right. We should go.”   
Cinder hadn’t realized she had zoned out, it’s Winter’s cool voice that has to drag her back. 

“Where to?”

“The manor, unless you have somewhere else to be.”

Cinder sighs. She had enjoyed their little escape from those marble walls, and would extend her leave if it was up to her. Winter, however, seems to have already made up her mind.

“Alright.”

They walk, hands on their weapons, down what feels like lifeless streets. Sometimes, they find a drone that has fallen on the ground. Sometimes it’s a few grimm- which they quickly dispose of.

“You were right,” Winter says as she turns on the engine of the vehicle, hands on the commands. She’s not looking at her. “We- I needed to get out of there for a while. To clean my head.”  
“Are you thanking me?”  
Winter doesn’t seem to pick up the irony in her voice, she keeps her eyes on the sky in front of them and her steel-cold voice.  
“Yes. It was good for both of us.”

Cinder wants to reply with some witty response, but ice blue eyes look at her, and her tongue feels tied to its place all of a sudden. 

It’s Winter that breaks up the silence, a few minutes later, when her jaw opens and- Cinder did not believe it was possible- her skin turns even paler.   
“Oh…”  
She immediately follows her gaze, curious and worried, and what she sees makes her curse under her breath.

There, beneath their airship, stands Schnee Manor, with its iron doors bust open, and a horde of grimm making its way inside it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler alert: Winter is not pleased.  
> Let me know what you thought!
> 
> I accidentally posted every chapter along this one LOL sorry about that, should be fine now I hope,, i suck at technology.


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